


we can burn this bridge or stay here

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Coffee Shops, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-05 00:04:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16356788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: House sees his ex while going to a café.





	we can burn this bridge or stay here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MysteryWriter36](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteryWriter36/gifts).



> fills my 'it wasn't meant to be' square in my gen prompt bingo card, and my 'reunion' square in my trope bingo card.
> 
> a prompt fill for who i gifted this to. 
> 
> title from 'seven day mile' by the frames, which is the same song that plays at the end of broken part two. ;)
> 
> enjoy!

House didn't expect to see him, much less at this place.

He's getting a coffee instead of going to the bar, after much bribing from Wilson, and he isn't exactly happy about it, but he can't do much about it. It's a new café- there are bookshelves full of magazines and quiet ambiance that sounds like lo-fi hip-hop. House walks in and goes to the barista's place, and his heart skips a beat at what he sees. Or rather, who he sees.

There's no question about it, he'd know that face anywhere, but it's clear he has changed. His hair is longer, the bags under his eyes set deeper in, his beard thicker, his slouch more prominent. But it's him, in all his messy haired glory and his eternal exhaustion and the ink in his fingertips. He's wearing an apron and he has a name tag. Alvie (he/him), it reads, and his heart has a faint ache in it.

House clears his throat, and Alvie looks up.

"A pumpkin spice latte?" he says as if he doesn't know him.

He carries himself different, too. He straightens up a little, puts on a smile not as enthusiastic as the ones he wore in the psych ward. Not manic anymore- perhaps hasn't been manic ever since last time they saw each other, a year ago, with soft words and promises and tears. House doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to think about Wilson telling him he fucked up in a barely-there whisper.

"Didn't take you as a pumpkin spice latte type of person," Alvie says. He gets it, puts the lid of the cup on, looks not as enthusiastic as he was two years ago. He pulls a lock of hair behind his ear; his hair almost goes down to his shoulders. Different- too different. "Name?"

House hesitates, fingers curling around the counter. "House." A pause. "Do you want to--?"

Alvie cuts him in, voice sharper than before, "You have the emotional capacity of a brick."

"I didn't even say anything," House says, softly, all too softly.

Alvie's brows furrow, deep-seated, a sadness taking ahold of him. A year ago he always looked like he could cry any second now, but this time he looks genuinely sad. Like he needs to be held, to have tears not shed wiped away.

Alvie grits his teeth and writes 'House' into the coffee cup, his fingers twitching against the pen. He hands him it.

"You were going to ask me to talk," he says. The room is thick with tension, so dense House can taste it heavy on his tongue. He wants to unfurl it, wants to apologize, wants to say a thousand things. "To go to the movies, to have dinner." Alvie swallows thickly. "It's over, House." He sniffles.

House takes his latte into his hand. His other hand twitches against his cane- he wants to hug Alvie, wants to wipe his tears away, wants to apologize over and over as if it'll ever be enough. "It's been over for a while," he agrees.

"We weren't..."

House leans against the counter, reaches a hand out.

Alvie slaps his hand away, sobers up just enough. He looks up at House. "It's been a year."

"A year," House breathes. Too much- it's too long, three hundred and sixty-five days. Too long to be without Juan Alvarez. Too long to be without anyone he cares about so much.

"We aren't meant to be."

"No one is meant to be with me," House intercepts. His voice is heavy with a sadness that's never seeped so fast and hard into his bones, it kind of feels like he's too cold, frozen, snow falling into his muscle and fat and bone. "But..."

Alvie musters up a smile. House wonders if maybe the man's on a depressive episode. It'd explain just a little. "Anything interesting in theaters?" he says, voice soft and almost resigned to getting back with this man, with this man that broke up with him in less than good terms.

House gets his hand back on his cane. "I'll check. I'll keep you updated." He hobbles to a table, sitting down and starting to drink his latte.

Alvie keeps his eyes on him as he takes orders and makes coffee, and House hopes that he doesn't mess everything up, just this one time.


End file.
